


Gaining Momentum

by sorteparaplyer



Series: Weight Gain [8]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Eating, Fat Klaus Hargreeves, Feeding Kink, Feedism, M/M, Sibling Incest, Situational Humiliation, Weight Gain, dropping the O word, eventual OT4 - Freeform, gainer/encourager, numbers kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:13:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24920629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorteparaplyer/pseuds/sorteparaplyer
Summary: Ben may be dead, but he's still orchestrating things from behind the scenes
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves
Series: Weight Gain [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1450702
Comments: 37
Kudos: 89





	1. Chapter 1

Grace sits at the head of the dinner table these days. It’s the way it always should have been, Klaus thinks, ever since they were kids. Dinner would have been a much more pleasant affair that way.

None of them can change how things were back then. But they’re doing their best to improve how things are now.

Their relationships are healing, growing. Developing. Klaus gets the impression that none of his siblings actually really knew each other. It’s almost like they’re starting from scratch, except for the years of built-up resentment they have to work through.

They’re doing a pretty good job of it, Klaus thinks. 

They’re even doing a decent job with him.

He had been embarrassed when he started gaining weight after getting sober. Or rather, he was embarrassed once he realized it was a _lot_ of weight. For a while—at first—it was fine because he was just filling out a little, looking healthier and not so fragile. But then he blew past healthy and headed straight into chubby. His belly swelled, his cheeks rounded out, his chest softened. He expected his siblings to ridicule him for it, but no one ever said or did a thing to imply they were anything other than supportive.

In fact there was plenty of evidence to suggest that they actually preferred him fat and sober.

Grace started to remind him multiple times throughout dinner that there was plenty of food if he wanted more of anything. Allison saw him outgrowing her old skirts and treated him to a much-needed shopping spree. Five’s fourteen-year-old eyes had seemed oddly affectionate as he looked Klaus up and down and gave a perfunctory “it suits you.” Vanya was far too polite to acknowledge it at all, though she did seem to approve.

Luther and Diego were admittedly more of an unknown quantity. Diego called him ‘big guy’ sometimes, but it was always pitched carefully neutral. And if Klaus had to guess, he would have said Luther was afraid to call attention to his size at all in case he said the wrong thing and put his foot in his mouth.

Then there was Pogo, who had cornered him one day to ask if Klaus needed help managing his weight. Klaus knew _everything_ Pogo said tended to come off sounding pointed and vaguely judgmental, and he probably actually meant well, but Klaus told him off anyways. Pogo never mentioned it again, not even as Klaus grew from chubby to properly fat. He had, however, continued to mention how proud he was of Klaus for staying sober. It was nice to hear, even if Klaus would never admit it. Between Mom's unconditional support and Dad's permanent disapproval, Pogo had always been the authority figure in his life whose opinion seemed to count for something.

That just left Ben. Sweet, sweet Ben. Klaus’ dearest and most favorite brother. Ben, who died tragically and only gets to come to Friday night family dinners as Klaus’ ghostly plus one.

Ben is the reason Klaus is as big as he is.

Klaus comes into the dining room and sees Ben already sitting perched on the buffet table along the wall. He sends him a wink and Ben smirks in response.

“I’m so glad everyone could make it for dinner tonight,” Grace says, grinning as if this hasn’t been their weekly routine for months now. “I’m sure you’ll just love what I’ve prepared for the occasion. And Klaus, dear, there’s plenty, so be sure to eat your fill.”

Klaus catches Allison rolling her eyes at him in a good-natured, affectionate way. She thinks it’s hilarious that Mom is always pushing food on him, trying to make sure he eats enough. They’ve decided it must satisfy something in her programming that was triggered by the increase in his weight.

“Okay, Mom, thank you,” he says politely, with a sideways smirk at Allison, and begins to fill his plate. Out of the corner of his eye he notices that Ben is starting to drift closer, skirting around the table as he comes towards him.

Klaus turns his attention to his plate, happily taking a big bite of roasted chicken, then another and another. He washes it down with a long swig of milk. Then he shoves a few huge spoonfuls of mashed potatoes and green beans into his mouth before setting to work on generously buttering a roll. 

From across the table Diego launches into a story about a fight he won recently at the boxing club. Klaus is listening, he really is, but suddenly Ben is right beside him making it really hard to pay attention. 

“You need more mashed potatoes,” Ben says firmly, leaning over him. The authority in his voice is uncompromising but not unkind. “You have to eat a lot more than this at your size, Klaus.”

 _You’re just as bad as Mom_ , Klaus wants to say, shooting him a disgruntled look. _What are you, the top authority on mashed potato portions?_ But Klaus can’t argue with Ben, can’t even hiss a sarcastic remark, with his family all sitting so close. They know about Ben now, of course, but that doesn’t always mean Klaus wants them to hear his end of their conversations. Especially not these sorts of conversations. There’s so much about Ben that they don’t know.

He takes another scoop of mashed potatoes and narrows his eyes at his brother. _Are you happy now?_

Ben nods his approval. “And some more gravy, Klaus. You'll need the calories to keep getting bigger.”

“Luther, be a dear and pass me the gravy boat, would you?”

Luther’s eyes fall to Klaus’ plate, where it’s obvious that almost everything on it has already been drenched in gravy. But that’s not any of Luther’s business. Klaus is a grown man who makes his own gravy choices. At least as far as Luther needs to know.

“The gravy?” Klaus asks again.

“Here, Klaus.” Diego picks up the gravy boat and hands it over to him.

“Oh, wow, thank you, Diego. It’s so nice to know I have one brother in this family who watches out for my wants and needs.”

Diego winks and points at him in a ‘you got it’ gesture, the idiot, while Luther splutters.

“I was _going_ to give it to you,” he says defensively.

“But I got there first,” Diego grins.

“You’ve truly saved my life,” Klaus tells him as he ladles gravy onto his plate.

Luther huffs.

“Luther,” Allison starts, picking up on the tension sparking between them. “I have to tell you what Claire said the other day. It was the funniest thing.”

Klaus zeroes in on his mashed potatoes, scooping big bites into his mouth. It’s no hardship to eat like this when the food is so good. Grace's cooking has always been delicious, but Klaus has a newfound appreciation for it now that he’s sober. He could eat her cooking all day long. Sometimes he does. Sometimes he eats until he can't move and then he just leans back, cradles his distended gut, and marvels at how good life is without addiction.

“That’s it,” Ben says, watching closely. “Shovel it in, big boy.” He’s half sitting on the edge of the table now, hovering over him, perched mere inches away from Vanya. “You’re getting so fat, Klaus.”

A sudden shock of pleasure rushes down his spine. He ducks his head before anyone can catch the look on his face.

“Your ass barely fits in that chair anymore,” Ben continues. It’s obscene that Ben can say these things out loud right at the table in front of everyone. He has the luxury of knowing no one can hear him, while Klaus has to school his features, force himself not to respond to anything Ben says. “Can you feel your love handles touching the chair arms? How much bigger can you get before you have to squeeze between them just to sit down? Until you’re too fat to fit at all? What are you gonna do then, Klaus, when you get so fat you can’t even fit in the dining room chairs?”

Klaus snaps his mouth shut to keep the whine from rising in his throat. He _can_ feel the arms of the chair pressing into the thick rolls at his sides. He’s given some vague thought to what he’ll do once it becomes uncomfortable to use these chairs. The conversation he’ll inevitably have to have with Mom or Pogo about getting him a chair that will accommodate his size. It’s an embarrassing but also oddly exhilarating thought—getting too fat for the furniture.

“This is making you horny, isn't it? Keep eating, Klaus. I want to see your belly swollen and packed.”

Vanya is telling everyone about a friend she made in her orchestra. The first chair violinist, who had seemed like a snob at first but turned out to just be shy. She must be cute because Vanya’s practically blushing as she recounts how the other invited her to get coffee.

Klaus makes a mental note to ask her more about it another time. He’d love to contribute to the conversation now, show her he’s interested in what’s going on in her life, but his cock is rock hard beneath his soft belly and he can’t even look at her without looking through Ben.

Ben, who looks like he’d have a boner of his own if he had any blood to fill it with. 

“Don’t stop now,” he urges. “You can’t be full yet. Keep going.”

Klaus reapplies himself to his plate, finds it almost empty.

“It’s a good thing Mom cooked so much. She knows what a pig you are. Go on, Klaus, make her proud. Fill your plate again.”

“Hey, Five, can I get the green beans down here?”

Five looks at the serving bowl and back at Klaus. “Are you going to take the rest of what’s left?”

“Do I give you the impression that I know what I’ll do from one minute to the next?”

Five rolls his eyes and dishes a scoop of green beans onto his own plate. “Anyone else want any of these before I hand them over?”

Allison takes another scoop and then passes the bowl to Luther to pass to Klaus. Klaus dumps what’s left in the bowl onto his plate.

Diego wordlessly hands him the gravy boat. Klaus winks as he takes it.

“Good boy,” Ben says, watching him drown the green beans in gravy. “You need more of the chicken too.”

Klaus immediately pulls the serving tray closer and forks more chicken onto his plate. Then he adds another roll, before Ben has to prompt him to do so.

“You’re doing so good for me,” Ben purrs, watching Klaus stuff himself. “You're going to get huge.”


	2. Chapter 2

That night it’s Luther’s turn to help Grace wash up after dinner. He collects all the dishes from the dining room and brings them into the kitchen, while Grace fills Tupperware containers with leftovers.

“There’s hardly any gravy left,” she muses, almost to herself, as she drains the gravy boat into a small bowl. 

“Yeah, well, Klaus was practically drinking it.”

“I should make more next time, just in case.”

“Or you could cut him off once he’s had enough.”

“That’s not my choice to make, silly.”

Luther frowns at the sight of her carefree smile. It’s still surprising how unfazed everyone is by Klaus’ eating habits. At first he’d been willing to look past it too, rationalizing it as Klaus finally getting to enjoy food sober. He’d even approved of the way he was filling out a little. But now Klaus is considerably overweight and he isn’t showing any signs of slowing down.

If Reginald were still here, Luther knows the responsibility to keep Klaus in line would fall on him. He would be expected to remind his brother of the standards for fitness and health that had been drilled into them as kids. But Dad’s gone, and Luther has learned that it was wrong and manipulative for Dad to push him into that role. That kind of responsibility had only served to alienate him from his brothers and sisters.

 _It’s so nice to know I have one brother in this family who watches out for my wants and needs_ , Klaus had said, like that wasn’t what Luther had been trying to do their entire lives.

Old familiar feelings of frustration and loneliness well up within him, but he tries to push them away. There are nuances to his family’s pain that he knows he doesn’t fully understand yet. 

Maybe all Klaus really wants is for his family to accept his choices without judgement. It sounds simple, but that sort of thing has never come naturally to Luther.

“Oh, Luther, would you be a dear and take this up to Klaus?”

Luther refocuses, sees Grace holding out a chocolate layer cake on a cardboard cake board.

“A whole cake?” he can’t help asking.

“It completely slipped my mind that I’d baked it for him this morning. He’ll be so happy to have a treat after his dinner.”

“I really don’t think…”

“Nonsense, Luther, of course he’ll be able to eat it. Everyone leaves room for dessert.”

Luther closes his mouth, takes the cake, and goes upstairs.

He’s standing outside Klaus’ door, balancing the cake board in one hand so he can knock, when he hears it.

A breathy, very sexual moan coming from inside. The kind that makes it absolutely obvious what Klaus is doing in there.

Luther hasn’t slept with anyone since the girl from the rave. It’s not that it wasn’t a good experience—it had been amazing to finally feel that _feeling_ , the physical sensation of— 

But he hasn’t done anything since then. He’s been leary of drinking since that night, and pursuing a hookup sober seems too lofty an ambition.

So it only makes sense that the sound of a moan would trigger a response from his body. It’s simple cause and effect. He’ll open the door just a crack and the sight of his brother jacking off will be like a bucket of cold water over his head.

Except when he cracks open the door, when he sees Klaus on his bed with his clothes off and his hands traveling over the expanse of his milky white belly—

It’s _not_ like a bucket of cold water.

He watches mesmerized as Klaus arches his back, moaning, massaging his belly like he’s kneading dough, like he really has to squeeze and pull to get the dough just right—

Luther’s never seen so much soft, flabby flesh before. Never seen the way it wobbles and ripples, how easily it can be manipulated by Klaus’ hands. He never really looked at Klaus’ growing body much at all, beyond an awareness of the fact that he was getting bigger. Now he can’t look away from the sight of his brother laid out on the bed, very naked and so big.

Klaus pauses, looking like he’s listening to something only he can hear, and then he moves his hands up to cup his chest. The fact that he _can_ do that, that he’s gotten heavy enough to have such a soft chest, short-circuits Luther’s brain even more. He watches as Klaus lavishes attention on his breasts, squeezing each one and pinching his nipples. 

Then one hand snakes back down to his belly and he curls his fingers into the dip of his navel. Klaus pulls back, hefting his bulk up towards his chest, and lets go. His belly wobbles and shakes as it falls into place, forming back into a round mound. He does it again, apparently enjoying the sensation of his bulk crashing back down, the waves of motion rippling through his fat. And then he strokes the mound of his belly, so gently, like he loves the weight he’s put on, loves his body, loves being so big.

It really hadn’t occurred to Luther that that might be the case.

He’s suddenly all too aware of the aching in his groin, the arousal in the pit of his stomach that seems to have numbed his legs, and he knows there’s no way he can walk in there and just hand Klaus a cake.

He stumbles into the bathroom across the hall instead, shoves the cake onto the counter and his hand down his pants.

Distantly he wonders how this could be a new revelation to him, how he could be thirty years old without ever having _felt_ this before. He’s seen fat people before, he must’ve. There’s been people he’s seen on missions or at promotional events for the Academy. There’s been—

He stops, because the truth is that all he’s really ever seen is his own body, and his siblings’ bodies growing up, and the body of the woman who took his virginity.

He’d never considered what anything else might look like.

But now it’s all he can think about. How Klaus had looked laid out on his bed, his soft thighs, big belly, even the thickness of his arms as he’d moved his hands over his gut. The pleasure he obviously got out of touching every inch of skin.

A part of him still thinks Klaus shouldn’t be indulging himself like that, that he must not realize it isn’t good for him, that someone will have to tell him. 

But then he comes, and he cleans himself up and takes the cake back to the kitchen.

The next morning, Luther comes down the stairs to make coffee. He stops when he sees Klaus there, leaning against the counter eating his cake.

A quarter of it is already gone, and it doesn’t look like Klaus is slowing down. He didn’t even cut the cake into slices. He just went straight in with a fork.

It’s no wonder he’s gotten so big, that his belly mounds up the way it does when he lies on his back, that his entire body is so soft—

Luther knows he shouldn’t say anything. It’s not his business to interfere with whatever Klaus is doing, especially when he’s so clearly enjoying himself. But his mouth still opens and he says, “Klaus, this isn’t healthy.”

“What?” Klaus asks, looking up at him.

“The way you’re eating,” he pushes on. “The amount of weight you’re gaining. It isn’t healthy.” 

Klaus tilts his head a little, regarding Luther cooly. “The _food_ I’m eating might not be healthy,” he says. “But you’re way behind the times if you think there’s anything wrong with some extra weight.”

Luther’s brow pinches. He can’t think of what part of Klaus’ statement to respond to first. He doesn’t even know what he can say that will convince Klaus at this point. It’s just like with the drugs and the drinking, all the things Klaus fucked himself up with no matter how much sense Luther tried talking into him. Except… except, it’s not really like that, because Luther knows a little more now about what Klaus was going through then. And anyways, hasn’t he learned that he’s not responsible for keeping his siblings in check anymore? The idea should be as freeing for him as it is for Klaus.

So he tries again, aiming for open-minded rather than judgemental. “Why are you eating unhealthy food?” he asks.

“Because I like it, and it’s going to help me get fatter.”

Luther can tell from the tone of his voice that it’s a challenge, that Klaus is inviting him to get riled up about it. He must wonder how Luther managed to go so long without commenting on his weight in the first place. But Luther saw the way he touched his body last night, how he’d moaned and arched into his own hands. He’s not as shocked by the idea as Klaus expects him to be. “Um, why do you want to do that?” he asks.

Klaus looks at him consideringly, and Luther feels somehow like he’s passed a test. “I just like being fat,” he says. It strikes Luther as an absurd thing to say, but he sounds unusually earnest as he explains, “I like how it looks, you know? And I like how it feels. Abs are great if that’s your thing but I— I like soft. And round. Jiggly.”

And, well, Luther must like it too, at least on some level, because he’d seen Klaus like that and he’d run to the bathroom to jerk off like a teenager. He’s confused by what he’d felt then, but Klaus clearly has things more figured out than he does. “Oh,” is all Luther finds to say.

“I didn’t think I’d like it at first, but, well, you could say it’s grown on me.” Klaus gives a delighted giggle at his joke, and goes back to eating his cake. 

The impulse is still there to protest, to lecture, to make it his business. But if this is what makes Klaus happy, who is he to stand in the way of that? Klaus seems like he’s fully aware of what he’s doing, and that ought to be enough for Luther. They’re adults now, so it has to be.

He stands there and watches as Klaus continues to eat. A smear of frosting catches his lip and Klaus wipes it away with a finger, only to suck the finger into his mouth. He moans after a particularly good bite like he doesn’t realize Luther is watching him, or just doesn’t care. He’s almost halfway through the cake when Luther suddenly imagines it making Klaus fatter, how his hands would lovingly stroke over added inches of flesh. How his belly would be packed with cake as he lies on his back groaning from fullness and pleasure. What it might be like for Luther to reach out and touch it, to get to feel how soft and doughy he is.

He excuses himself quickly for the bathroom.


	3. Chapter 3

Klaus shoves another forkful of cake into his mouth and glances at Ben. “What?” he demands.

Ben rolls his shoulders in a shrug. “Nothing,” he says. “I’m just surprised that you came right out and told Luther.”

Klaus mirrors his shrug and takes another bite. “I _knew_ he had an opinion kicking around in that big head of his. I just wanted to hear what it was.”

“I think you ended up telling him more than he told you.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t really care if he knows I like being fat.”

“Or that you’re getting bigger on purpose?”

“Nope.”

They haven’t talked about this in any practical sense. Sure, Ben’s teased him over the months for how his family responded to his weight gain. How Allison saw his belly starting to hang out of her old clothes and insisted on taking him shopping, how Grace cooks for him like she wants to personally ensure he meets his goal weight.

Not that they really have a goal. That’s not the part of it that’s fun for them. But if they did, Ben is sure Grace’s help would have Klaus there in record time.

So, there’s been plenty of teasing, even some fantasizing. But no actual discussion of Klaus telling anyone that the last hundred pounds he gained were intentional.

“Hope it doesn’t make things weird though,” Klaus says, dragging the tines of his fork through chocolate frosting. “He beat a pretty hasty retreat there, huh?”

Ben recalls the way Luther’s face changed when Klaus picked his fork back up, how he’d watched a little too intensely while Klaus ate his cake. “If things are weird,” Ben says, “it won’t be because of what you said. If anything that probably helped.”

“What do you mean?”

Ben hesitates. “Uh, Luther saw you last night while we were, you know, having a moment.”

Klaus’ eyes widen. “What! Ben, you weren’t going to _tell_ me this?”

Ben had pictured waiting to drop the news until Klaus had a hand on his dick, or was maybe on his hands and knees on the bed, being directed to hump a pillow balled between his fat thighs. Maybe he’d wait until Klaus was so close to coming that nothing would be able to pull him back from the edge in time. The point is, he had wanted Klaus to be _compromised_ when he heard all about how his brother had watched him touching himself. 

“I was just waiting for the right time,” he says.

“Well, what exactly did he see?”

“He just opened the door a crack, so I’m not sure if he got the whole show, but he definitely saw you playing with your tits.”

Klaus huffs. “You’re the one who’s always telling me to do that.”

“Yeah, because I know how much you love it.”

Klaus makes another scoffing sound and turns back to his cake. “It’s a good thing I have no shame,” he mutters. “Christ on a cracker.”

“You know, he seemed to like what he saw.”

“Sure he did.”

“I’m serious. He had this look on his face like…”

Klaus eyes him. “Like what?”

“Like he had to get out of there and go jerk off immediately.”

Klaus rolls his eyes. “Okay, Ben, not everybody is a freak like you.”

Ben’s not so sure, because he saw the look on Luther’s face. The way his mouth slowly fell open, the way his eyes glazed over as they tracked the motion of Klaus’ hands over his skin. That’s exactly how Ben looks when he’s with Klaus, and he’s self-aware enough to know it. “There’s already two of us in the family,” he says, gesturing between them. “You think there couldn’t be three?”

“If there were, it wouldn’t be Luther.”

“Who would it be?”

“Diego.”

“You’re just saying that because Diego’s so _eligible_.”

“Shut up, Ben. You know I only have eyes for you.”

“Well, _I_ wouldn’t mind,” Ben says, very casually. He’s wished, so many times, that he could watch someone else touching Klaus, feeding Klaus, playing with Klaus’ stuffed belly. Not that he doesn’t make the most of his corporeal moments, and of course he enjoys telling Klaus to touch himself. But watching someone else do it, getting to tell someone else how to touch Klaus… that would be nice too. He would like that. _A lot._

Klaus simply shrugs again and turns his attention back to his cake. He’s halfway through it now, and Ben is starting to see the first signs of Klaus struggling against his fullness. It never fails to send a jolt down his spine, to see the way Klaus slows down, how he pauses between bites, how his breathing starts to edge toward panting—how he manages to push through it all to pack himself as full as possible.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have started with cake for breakfast,” he says.

“Because it’ll give me a bellyache?” Klaus asks, in a tone that implies he’s never let a stomachache stop him before.

Ben gives him a soft little smile, just on the good-natured side of condescending. “Because you always eat more when you start with something savory,” he explains. “If you’d eaten a good breakfast, if your belly was already stretched with eggs and sausage and hash browns, you wouldn’t be struggling like this after half a cake.”

“Oh.” Klaus pauses with the fork halfway to his mouth. Ben can practically see him doing the math, trying to figure out how he would struggle less by eating more. But Ben knows he wants it, that just the idea is making him hungry despite being almost full already. “Where’s Mom?” Klaus asks.

“I’m not so sure it’s a good idea at this point, Klaus.” Ben’s voice is gentle, compassionate. Like he understands his brother’s insatiable need for food and would never hold it against him. “You already started with the cake. It would only hurt your stomach more if you added greasy food on top of it.”

Klaus makes a little sound of frustration, because he knows Ben is right and yet he clearly still wants it, still wants eggs and sausage and whatever he can get Grace to cook for him. Ben loves that about Klaus. The fact that he knows when Ben is right, and the fact that he always wants more to eat.

“Why don’t you eat as much of the cake as you can, and once your stomach settles a little you can eat a real breakfast and finish the cake afterwards.”

“You’re so wise, Ben, where would I be without you?”

“You’d probably still be able to fit into all your clothes from last year.”

“I barely fit into the clothes I got two months ago.”

Ben smiles. “I know.”

Klaus winks in response and turns back to the cake, dutifully scooping forkfuls into his mouth. Ben watches as Klaus’ breathing changes, as he starts shifting his weight from foot to foot in discomfort, as his other hand creeps over the swell of his belly. The fork rises to his lips more and more slowly until finally it stops altogether. 

Klaus lets out a pained little moan then and sets the fork down. “I can’t eat any more. I gotta sit down,” he mutters, and shuffles—waddles, really—to a chair at the table. He slumps into it and pulls his shirt up to expose the curve of his swollen stomach. “If I manifest you will you rub this for me?”

Ben takes a minute to appreciate the sight of Klaus’ gut pushing out into his lap. If he were corporeal right now he could heft Klaus’ belly in his hands, feel how heavy it is, feel the firmness of his distended stomach and the doughiness of his underbelly. He could trace the river map of white lines in all the places where Klaus’ skin has stretched to accommodate his ballooning weight. But it would only hold for an hour or so and then Ben’s physical presence would wink out again, before it’s even lunchtime. “Are you sure you want to cash in already?” he asks. “At nine in the morning?”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Klaus groans. “I guess not. I’m sure I’ll be fuller than this later.” He puts his own hands to his bulk, gingerly rubbing over his stomach. “Wish I could manifest you for more than like an hour a day.”

“Maybe if you weren’t too busy stuffing your fat ass to train.”

It’s just teasing, and they both know it. Klaus has done his due diligence, exploring his capabilities and pushing his powers as far as he could, but they’ve come to accept he can only manifest Ben in short bursts. And Ben is okay with that, he really is. But it still sucks, because Ben always, _always_ , wants to touch Klaus, grip his love handles, nuzzle into his soft chest.

“But you love my fat ass,” Klaus says, blowing him a kiss.

“Yeah,” Ben agrees. “And your fat everything else.”

“Benny boy, you’re making me swoon,” Klaus deadpans, holding a hand over his heart before dropping it to rest over the swell of his stomach.

Ben smirks, watching as Klaus continues absently rubbing his gut. 

“So you really think Luther takes after you in your _proclivities_?” Klaus asks.

“I’d say there’s a good chance.”

“Let’s test it out then.”

“How?”

Klaus waves a hand carelessly. “We’ll go to lunch. Out somewhere so Mom’s not around. I’ll lay it on as thick as I can without getting another indecent exposure charge and we’ll see how he reacts.”

“I know better than to agree to your ideas, but that sounds pretty straightforward.”

“You can be in charge of watching for a boner.”

“Thanks, Klaus.”

Klaus just grins and goes back to massaging himself.

Ben starts to mull it over, considering what might happen if it turns out he’s right about Luther. Suddenly he can’t help picturing another pair of hands on Klaus, squeezing his bulk, making him moan, maybe even pushing food into his mouth. Doing all the things to Klaus that Ben wants to do, doing all the things that Klaus can’t do to himself. 

Neither of them has wanted to involve someone else before. For all of Ben’s wishing, he’s never been comfortable with the thought of letting a stranger into their world. But someone in the family would be different. They would already know about Ben; they would just have to be updated on the details of his and Klaus’ relationship.

There could be so much more to what he has with Klaus, and eventually there could be so much more of Klaus.

He’s getting ahead of himself, he knows. He has no reason to think Luther would want any part of what they’re doing, no matter how arousing he may or may not find it. And maybe Klaus wouldn’t want to involve him anyways, or they’d try it and find the dynamic between them just didn’t work. There’s no guarantee that anything would come of Klaus’ plan at all. 

But Ben can’t help hoping there’s a chance, that he might finally get to watch someone else touching Klaus, feeding him, helping to make him massive.


	4. Chapter 4

“Do you want to get lunch with me and Klaus?”

Diego frowns. “What?”

Luther clears his throat a little, looking awkward. “I said do you—”

“I heard what you said.”

“Okay,” Luther says, wrong-footed. “Then…”

“Why are you asking me to get lunch? No offense, but coming from you it sounds like a trap.”

“Um. It’s not. Klaus invited me and I thought maybe you’d like to come too.”

Diego eyes him, watching Luther shift his weight uncomfortably. He can’t help feeling like Luther has a double motive here, that there’s something he’s not telling him. “If Klaus wanted me to come with you guys,” he says, “he would’ve invited me.”

“Well, I asked him and he said it was okay.”

There was a time when Diego would’ve outright said no. He’d get lunch with Klaus, sure, but not Luther, absolutely not. They didn’t need to sit down together at a table in some restaurant to know they had nothing civil to say to each other. 

But things are supposed to be different now. Luther’s been trying, and Diego has slowly begun to see the results of that. There’s still tension between them, but there’s also understanding and a growing amount of compassion. And he’s supposed to be trying too. It’s hard to swallow sometimes, but he’s learning life is just simpler when he eases up on his petty resentment towards his brother.

“Okay,” Diego says. “I’ll come.”

Luther lets out a sigh of relief, and Diego is suspicious all over again, wondering if there’s more to it than Luther’s letting on. But maybe Luther’s just apprehensive about spending time with Klaus alone—especially in public, where Klaus has been known to draw attention.

He’s not really liable to cause scenes like that anymore though. He’s sober now, for one, and two, the huge amount of weight he’s gained seems to have mellowed him out a lot.

Not that Diego is paying attention to his weight. He’s paid some attention, sure, since it’s impossible to ignore his brother blowing up like a blimp, but it’s been a completely normal amount of attention. If Diego’s the one always passing seconds to Klaus at dinner, if his gaze lingers a little too long while Klaus is eating, he’s sure it’s nothing anyone else would have noticed.

And if there’s a little thrill in his belly at the thought of watching Klaus gorge himself on diner food, nobody else needs to know about it.

“Where are we going, anyways?” he asks.

“McDonald’s.”

“McDonald’s?” Diego huffs. “This whole discussion was over going to McDonald’s?”

Luther’s brow wrinkles. “Well, Klaus said he’d pay, and that’s where he wanted to go.”

“It’s all Dad’s money. It doesn’t matter whose wallet it comes out of.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Diego. That’s where Klaus invited us. Do you want me to ask him about going somewhere else?”

“No, no, we can go. I’m not too good for McDonald’s.”

Luther throws his arms out in frustration, huffs, and walks away.

“Can’t wait for lunch,” Diego calls after him.

The outfit Klaus comes downstairs in is almost enough to make Diego’s eyes bug out of his head. He can’t tell if Klaus intended to wear a crop top, or if he just picked out a shirt that hasn’t fit him in at least six months.

Either way, his belly bounces and wobbles with each step he takes down the stairs.

Klaus gets to the bottom of the staircase and looks innocently between Luther and Diego. He pulls the hem of his shirt down, though it only goes as far as his belly button before it refuses to stretch any further. There’s a good few inches of his belly still exposed, and Diego has to force himself to look away from them.

“Are we ready?” Klaus asks. “I’m starving.”

“Um,” Luther says, very intelligently, and Diego wonders if he'll ask Klaus to change. But Luther just takes a deep breath, as if he's composing himself, and shakes himself a little. “Yeah, we’re ready,” he says. “Let's go.”

By the time they’re all buckled into Diego’s car, Klaus’ shirt is riding up over the swell of his belly again. Diego knows this because Luther actually requested to sit in the backseat by himself, so Klaus is sitting up front beside him. 

It might also be because Diego watched Klaus yank out enough length of seatbelt to fully wrap around his belly, and he keeps glancing down at the way it frames his bulk.

“You’re, uh,” Diego says, dragging his eyes up to Klaus’ face. “Your shirt is…”

Klaus lets out a giggle and pulls it down again. “Yeah, I know. I’m way too big for it.”

“Then maybe you should retire it, bro.”

Klaus gasps. “No way! It’s my favorite! I’m gonna keep wearing it no matter how fat I get.” He turns in his seat, twisting around to look at Luther. “Until it literally rips off my body.” 

Diego sneaks another look down, only to find Klaus’ gut is pressing into the center console as he leans over it. The sight of it squashed against the vinyl, right beside Diego's arm, almost causes him to drive off the road.

“It doesn’t bother you to go out in public like that?” Luther asks.

Klaus scoffs. “What do I have to be afraid of? People finding out I’m fat? They’ll know whether they can see my belly or not.” He laughs a little, glancing at Diego, then looks back at Luther. "Wait, it doesn’t bother _you_ , does it?”

“What? People finding out you’re, uh, overweight?”

Klaus laughs. “No, I meant people seeing my belly.” He pats his bulk to emphasize, making it wobble a little, before giving himself a squeeze. It looks obscene with his gut still flopped onto the console, as if on display for anyone to see or touch. Diego realizes then that if he’d been leaning just a little further over when Klaus turned around, his arm would be _under_ Klaus’ belly right now. Diego thinks his ears might be ringing.

Klaus finally turns back around, settling heavily into his seat. He adjusts his seatbelt a little, pulling it looser around his stomach. “ _Overweight_ ,” he repeats, rolling his eyes. “You know you can just say ‘fat’, Luther.”

“Well, you _are_ overweight.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am,” he says, nodding. His eyes flick to the side and then he smirks. “Actually, Ben said to tell you technically I’m obese.”

Behind him, Luther seems to choke on something. 

“Ben’s here?” Diego asks.

“Yeah, he came to keep an eye on Luther.”

It occurs to Diego to wonder what Ben thinks of Klaus’ weight gain, since Ben is pragmatic and bossy and the closest thing Klaus has to a moral compass. He can just picture him trying to dissuade Klaus from taking seconds and thirds in the same longsuffering way he used to try to talk him out of taking pills.

He hopes Ben is being nice about it at least, since he knows Ben has a tendency to be blunt. But he also suspects that maybe Klaus would enjoy that, since he seems plenty comfortable talking about his weight now that it’s come up. 

And then he wonders how Ben knows Klaus is obese, and he can’t help picturing Ben bossing him into getting on a scale, telling him he ought to know how heavy he’s gotten. He can just see him reporting the number to Klaus, since Klaus is too big to see the readout over his own bulk, and watching Klaus’ reaction to what he tells him. Diego wonders if Klaus would feel shock, worry, pleasure, pride? A combination of all of them?

He tries to turn his attention back to the road, but all he can think about is what number Ben might have seen when he last weighed Klaus, what Klaus might have looked like when Ben told him. And then Diego has to know for himself, he has to know what Klaus weighs. 

“How much do you weigh now anyways?” he asks, very casually.

Klaus shrugs a little, pauses, and says, “I just hit two hundred seventy pounds, according to Ben.”

“Wow,” Diego says, before he can stop himself. “That’s a lot.” Something about Ben knowing offhand how much Klaus weighs, knowing the exact number when Klaus doesn't know it for himself, turns Diego’s brain to mush. He can’t even process yet that 270 is _big_ , that Klaus has gotten so big, because he’s suddenly so turned on that he feels like he's having an out of body experience. He's not even sure he's still driving the car.

“That’s why lunch is on me," Klaus is saying. "I’m pretty sure I could out-eat Luther at this point.”

“We’ll have to test that sometime,” he says faintly.

The conversation lulls then and Diego takes the opportunity to get a grip on himself. He can tell Klaus is silently discussing something with Ben, all microexpressions he couldn’t decipher if he tried, but Klaus declines to fill them in.

They finally pull into the McDonald’s parking lot and Klaus groans as he stares out the window. The place is packed full from the lunch rush, and it looks like it's only getting busier. “Hey,” Klaus says. “There’s such a long line inside. Let’s just go through the drive-thru and eat in the car.”

“It’s usually still faster to go in and order at the counter,” Luther tells him.

“Yeah, maybe, but then you have to stand around waiting for _so long_ to get your food, and it doesn’t even look like there’s any tables open. Neither of us fit in a booth anymore, Luther.”

“It’d be hard on the car to idle for that long in the drive-thru line,” Diego says. “We should just park and get out.”

“But, look, all the open spots are so far away from the door. I’m obese, Diego. Ben said so. I shouldn’t have to walk all the way up to a restaurant that has a perfectly good drive-thru.”

“I think being, uh… I think that means you probably _should_ walk,” Luther says.

“Two seventy isn’t even that fat,” Diego tells Klaus, pushing down the thrill of saying his weight out loud. “We’ll talk when you hit three hundred, okay?”

“I’ll never get there with setbacks like having to walk into restaurants.”

“So get an extra milkshake.”

“Why can’t I have an extra milkshake and also stay in the car?”

“Because you could use the exercise,” Luther interjects.

“If you’re really too fat and lazy to haul your ass inside,” Diego says to Klaus, “then I guess you can stay in the car.”

Klaus crosses his arms over his gut with a self-satisfied look. “Okay, good. I really am that fat and lazy.”

Without even thinking, Diego reaches over and pats his belly. “Yeah, sure,” he teases. “You’re not even three hundred pounds yet, remember?”

Klaus just sticks his tongue out at him, and Diego summons all his willpower to take his hand off Klaus again.

“So we’re going through the drive-thru?” Luther asks.

“Looks like,” Diego says, pulling into the drive-thru lane. “What do you want?”

“I’ll just get whatever Klaus gets so the order’s easy.”

“Well, I was gonna order about half the menu so you might want to reconsider that,” Klaus tells him.

“That’s… that’s a lot, Klaus.”

“Ben says I need to eat a lot at my size.”

“Is that how you got so big in the first place?” Diego asks. 

He doesn't mean anything by it, except to tease Klaus a little for blaming it on Ben, but Klaus turns to him with a knowing look in his eyes. “Yeah,” he says. “It is.”

Diego hauls about five bags of food in through his car window and then drives off in search of a good spot to park and eat. They end up in a nearby park, in a parking lot with a picnic table close by.

“Ooh, we can have a picnic!” Klaus exclaims, clapping his hands.

“Won’t walk into McDonald’s but you’ll walk to a picnic table?”

“Well, yeah, it’s only a few feet away.”

“It might be a tight squeeze,” Luther cautions, eyeing the bench seats. “I’m not sure you'll fit.”

“I’ll figure something out,” Klaus says, waving his hand. “Here, take these,” he tells Diego, passing back the bags of food. He uses both hands to lever himself out of the car, and then heads for the picnic table. 

Turns out it _is_ a tight squeeze getting into the bench seat. Luther fits, since there’s plenty of room for his broad shoulders in the open air, but Klaus’ belly is much too big. He sits sideways instead, straddling the bench, and lets his gut hang between his thighs. His thick love handles make it pretty tight from the side too, but it doesn’t seem to bother him as he digs into the bags and begins peeling wrappers off sandwiches.

“Mmm,” he moans, shoving a hamburger in his mouth. “This is so good. I think the last time I had one of these I’d fished it out of a dumpster.” He takes a long pull from his soda and then another big bite. “Turns out they’re way better warm.”

“Well, there’s five more of them here, so lucky you, I guess.” Diego watches him inhale the rest of the burger and immediately start in on another. It’s gone in just a few bites and Klaus is already reaching for a third. “Christ,” Diego says. “Maybe you should slow down a little, big guy.”

“I can’t,” Klaus mumbles, his mouth full. “It’s so good.”

“You don’t eat like this at family dinner,” Luther says, frowning a little.

“Can’t be that much of a pig in front of my _whole_ family, can I?” Klaus balls another wrapper in his hand and reaches for a handful of french fries.

“Just us?” Diego clarifies.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Klaus actually stops chewing for a second and looks at Diego. “Because,” he says, “you both seem to like it so much.”

“Wait, hold on, what—”

“Don't think I didn't see how you were looking at me in the car.”

“But Luther—”

“Is a peeping Tom, which might make him more of a freak than you are. Ben hasn’t decided yet.”

Luther splutters. “I didn’t mean to watch you the other night, when you were—”

“I know,” Klaus says. “It’s okay. But you liked what you saw, didn’t you?”

Diego has no idea what they’re talking about, but he sees the stricken, guilty look on Luther’s face and he knows that Klaus is right. 

Then Klaus goes back to scarfing down food, popping chicken nuggets into his mouth like candy. He seems completely unbothered by the bewildered way Luther is staring at him.

“What did you see the other night?” Diego asks him.

For a second Diego thinks Luther’s too embarrassed to answer him. But then he says, “Klaus was laying in bed, uh, playing with himself. Not- not like that. I mean, he was just touching his body.”

“He was playing with his fat?” 

Luther's face goes red as he nods.

“It was mostly for Ben’s benefit,” Klaus explains. “Just putting on a little show for him, you know. Since he can’t actually touch me himself most of the time.”

“ _What_?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s not just you two. It’s also Ben. Go figure, right? You're all dirty lecherous kinksters. Either that or I’m just _so_ incredibly sexy.” Klaus wipes a smear of ketchup away and reaches for a milkshake. It’s melted to a soupy consistency by now, so Klaus pulls the straw out and knocks it back, drinking it down in long gulps.

Diego suddenly has a lot of new information to process, but he can't think about that right now, not while he can practically see Klaus’ stomach distending, swelling outward as he drinks more and more. He wants to weigh Klaus after this, see how many pounds of food he’s packed away. He wants to keep Klaus eating like this day after day, and keep putting him on the scale so he can watch his weight climb higher and higher. And he wants to be able to do it with Ben, the two of them working together to help Klaus put on all the weight he wants. 

And, apparently, Luther might want to get in on it too. Diego’s not so sure about him being involved, but he has to admit it could be handy to have someone with super-strength around as Klaus gets heavier. Maybe they could learn to get along, united by a common purpose. They haven’t tried to kill each other yet today, so it could be possible.

“God, I’m so full,” Klaus moans, setting aside the empty milkshake cup. He wipes away his milk moustache and picks up another burger. “My stomach is packed.” 

“Then stop eating,” Luther says.

“Luther, you have so much to learn.”

“Unbutton your pants,” Diego blurts out.

Klaus gestures at him, still looking at Luther. “See?” he says, “now, Diego here is a natural.” He snakes his hands beneath his belly and lets down his fly, breathing a sigh of relief as his gut pushes forward. “That’s way better.” He stifles a burp, and then goes back to eating his hamburger.

Luther is watching him very intently. “I think I could learn,” he says quietly, after a minute.

A slow smile spreads on Klaus’ face. “Well, I could teach you.”

“You still have another milkshake here,” Diego reminds him. “Do you want it?”

Klaus’ smile breaks into a grin. “Of course I do.”


End file.
